Chapter 3
Three
Maeve
I ’ve never felt this foolish. I jumped in the car with a complete stranger. Okay – that’s typically how it works with these apps, but I didn’t double check it was the correct car. I’m so flustered that I’m being reckless! This is turning into the vacation of my worst nightmare. Weather delaying my flight, questionable sinus medicine giving me explosive diarrhea, lost luggage, hopping in a car with that odd ball, and then flashing everyone my rear end. Not everyone – no, no, no. My ex- fiancé, Leo, and long-time bully, Trina.
Then I lied! I lied about having a new fiancé. Everyone is going to notice when I don’t show up with a Mr. Deschamps to the wedding. Who is Mr. Nicholas Deschamps? Doesn’t matter. Focus, Maeve . I need a dress and now a fiancé. I’m not even going to tempt fate by asking what else could go wrong. Once I shower, I’ll be able to think more clearly. This trip is not off to a promising start, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to continue this way.
I hurry to the desk to check in. The lady behind the desk smiles widely, and I offer her a smile in return.
“Checking in?” she asks.
“Yes. Maeve Goodman.” I take my I.D. out of my wallet, along with my credit card, and hand them to her.
She clicks a few times and then her head tilts. Not in the good head tilt way either. My heart plummets. “I’m sorry, Miss Goodman. There’s no reservation. Do you have a confirmation code?”
“Of course.” I swipe my phone and search through my emails. How’d Gram check in if they couldn’t pull up my reservation? I was so distracted I didn’t see where she wandered off to after they helped her out of the car. Tristan and Vincent are going to lose their minds when they find out I hopped in a car with a stranger and lost Gram. I’m panicking for no reason. I made it here alive and Gram is probably playing the slots somewhere.
“Here it is.” I hand her my phone and her lips form a tight straight line. I quickly pull my phone back to read the email to see why she’d make such a face. “What’s wrong? There it is.”
“The dates, ma’am.”
I turn my phone back and read over my reservation. I booked the dates in the wrong month! “I don’t have any words.” I’ve stunned myself. “Wow. Okay, well, I’d like to book a room for tonight, please.” The lady’s only response is to slowly shake her head with that same grim expression. “There’s none? ” I ask in disbelief. “This place is huge. How are there no rooms available?”
A deep, familiar voice chimes in. “Miss Maeve Goodman needs a key for the top.”
The receptionist stands straighter and looks at my creepy driver with the utmost respect. “The…” Then she clears her throat and stares at the computer as she clicks. “Yes, sir.”
Something is off. How’d he know about the top and why is she looking at him like a celebrity walked in. He comes to stand next to me and nods. “Maeve.”
The way he just said my name – smooth as velvet. My stomach should not feel tingles. And my skin shouldn’t be so warm. This guy is a whack job.
“Great. Now you know where I’m staying along with my name.”
He chuckles. Of course his laugh is sexy, too. This is how all serial killers get their victims. Charm them enough to where you don’t notice they’re a debauched murderer. He leans closer to me to whisper, “To be fair, you jumped into my car. I didn’t lure you in with candy. Or other delicious promises.”
Is he flirting? Oh my goodness. Heaven help me that I’m curious as to what he could offer. I have to swallow to keep drool from going down my chin.
“And, Miss Goodman, you told me where you were staying. Remember?”
The car ride. Of course. “You’re still being creepy.”
He gives me a lopsided smile and says, “Stop trying to make me out to be the boogeyman.” I faintly hear him say under his breath, “I’m far worse.”
He walks away with his head held high and the confidence of a man who owns the world. A sinking realization settles within me. I jumped into a stranger’s car who went ahead and gave me a ride. He knew exactly where to go. Spoke to the valet guy very casually. And now came up to the service desk and made a demand. I quickly turn to the lady on the other side of the desk. “Do you know him?”
She looks baffled. “You don’t? He just gave you the top floor, and you don’t even know who he is?”
“Well, I thought he was my driver.”
A full belly laugh escapes her. The lady literally laughs in my face, full on hysteria. It wasn’t that funny. “You thought Mr. Deschamps was your driver? ”
“I guess I didn’t think it since he actually did drive me here. Wait – did you say the top floor? I need a room. Not a floor.”
She hands me a black key card. “I’ll let you settle that with Mr. Deschamps.”
Oh my God. No, no, no, no. “Did you say Mr. Deschamps? As in Nicholas Deschamps?” Please tell me that’s not what she said. Deschamps is a common name. I know plenty of…No. Actually, I don’t. But that still doesn’t mean…
“Here’s your key card. There’s a private access elevator right over there.”
“How much is that going to cost? I can’t afford –”
Now she doesn’t even bother hiding how dense she finds me. Her face is practically screaming that she thinks of me as a complete moron. Her tone is borderline patronizing as she says, “There’s no bill.”
Free ride and room. O…kay. Not weird at all . The valet guy only referred to him as my fiancé. And he happened to be the guy to show up at the airport. None of this is alarming or suspicious. Nothing out of the ordinary here.
I’m in so much trouble.
I should call my cousins because this is suspicious activity. Plus, Gram is missing. Maybe not missing but rather misplaced. It could be dangerous – wait – this is. However, I don’t take my phone out and call for help. A part of me wants to find out what awaits me on the top floor. I stand in front of the sleek, black metal elevator. It would be insane to go up. But Gram could be there waiting for me. This could also be my one-way ticket to crazy town. Or the elevator ride I don’t come back down from. Then again, it could be the craziest and best thing I’ve ever done. I won’t know the truth until I go up.
I swipe the card and step inside the sleek elevator. Far too quickly, the doors are sliding open. There he stands waiting for me. His black hair is slicked back and he smirks, revealing his perfectly white teeth with noticeably sharp canines. Piercing blue grey eyes are complemented by long dark lashes. That jaw. Dear Lord, he has a defined jawline with a hint of scruff. His lips are full and pouty. He’s dressed in a very well-fitted gray suit with a red undershirt and black leather dress shoes.
“Hello, Miss Goodman.”
Nope. Nope. Nope. This was a stupid and terrible idea. I immediately regret my decision. I’m going to blame it on the fact I’m running on fumes here, and well past my breaking point. I press the button to close the elevator, but Mr. Deschamps is there in several quick strides, preventing the door from closing with his large frame.
“Is this your lair?” I force out.
He awards me with another charming chuckle. “As a matter of fact, yes. Tonight instead of finding your grandmother in the bed, it’ll be me.”
That doesn’t sound creepy at all. We just met. Who does he think he is? Psychopath. I reach for the red panic button on the elevator, but he covers it with his hand. “A joke. I apologize. I was referring to me being your roommate rather than your grandmother.”
He knew I was rooming with my grandmother. Of course it was on my reservation that I’d be sharing a room and he picked us up together. Or…He must’ve hung around after I fell.
“You…You listened to my conversation? Were you eavesdropping? Spying on me?” How humiliating that he heard all of that and how disturbing that he was listening. “Why? Why? ”
“Come sit. I’ll explain everything.” He appears pleasant enough, but there’s a hint of a command there, which makes me laugh.
“No. Do you think I’ll blindly follow you?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “You jumped into a car with me before you knew anything . That’s the definition of going in blind , I’d say.” He has a point.
“Listen pal. I don’t know you. Stranger danger.”
He offers me his hand, but it’s his eyes that have me captured. They’re hypnotizing. I can’t break contact or even think. My lips part as he guides me out of the elevator and I take in the expansive and elegant space. Minimal decorations but that’s probably so as not to distract from the view. Large windows overlook the Vegas strip, the lights glittering through the glass. I turn my head to the right and about fall over. There’s a kitchen. A kitchen. And not like a microwave and refrigerator, but a fully-equipped kitchen that’s nicer than mine at home. Everything, everywhere is so clean…and spotless. He releases my hand and I hate that I miss the warmth from it. I follow him over to an all-white sitting area. The couch is white, the table is white with white granite, and everything is sleek and modern. I want to take everything in but the presence of the man before me is too consuming.
“I’m a stranger, but I don’t have to be. I can be your ally.” He takes a seat on the couch and gestures for me to do the same. “How long are you here for?”
“Til Sunday.” I sit on the far end of the couch, putting plenty of space between us.
“A weekend in Sin City,” he whispers, more to himself than me.
“Have you actually been staying here?” This room looks like a display that nobody has touched.
“Staying? I live here.” His voice oozes with sarcasm as he speaks to me as though I’m an idiot. “Haven’t we already established this is my lair?”
“Wow. You’re a real gentleman.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Hardly. You’d do well not to forget it.” He licks his lips in a sinful manner. “But you’ll find I can be quite the gentleman, if the situation requires it,” he tells me in a seductive tone. He throws an arm across the back of the couch. “I can be any kind of man I need to be depending on the occasion. Like I mentioned before, I can be your ally. It seems you are in need of a friend. A date for the wedding, perhaps?”
The jerk. Did he set me up? “Did you arrange all this? What are you after?”